


after the storm

by Murf1307



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: (also implied) - Freeform, (it's implied okay), Alternate Universe - Canon, Biblical References, Canonical Character Death, Death, Love is a Religion, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Pregnancy, Nuns, Other, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, References to Tomorrow Never Learns, Religion, Religious Symbolism, Trans Character, love is not enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the Phoenix's death at the hands of a past Idie Okonkwo, legend takes shape and a child is raised in secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	after the storm

**Author's Note:**

> I might write more of this.

They say the Phoenix requires sacrifice, when Westchester goes up in flames.  When Wolverine appears out of the rubble, dragging the corpse, they all know it's true.  
  
What was the sacrifice?  Life, sure, but if you dig deep enough, if you ask the right questions, you'll see that the sacrifice came in three parts, and this is only the middle of the story.  There is a woman, lithe and strong, with Death in her eyes, who can tell you all of it if you ask her.  Her hand is on her bible, and she, like the Phoenix, is waiting for the crucifixion.  
  
The nuns whisper 'Magdalene,' and they whisper 'Judas' in the same breath.  In another life she will be a Pilate, because of what she now has done.  That which was, is, and ever shall be -- something of this world will always remain in that life.  
  
"It was love," says the woman who is not Death.  "It always is."  
  
The nuns murmur and nod, because that's scripture, that's orthodoxy.  
  
There is a sacrificed love entombed beneath the floor of a great house in Westchester, and he will return someday, betrayed only once (but once is enough).  This time, in this story, Judas has already been hanged, and Magdalene is not there to bear witness, her bones already in the ground.  
  
The world will burn, and that will be the final sacrifice.    
  
After all, it's made of trinities, always.  Live, die, live, die again, live again, only to die a last time in sacrificial flame.  That is always the way, from the White Phoenix forward.  
  
A trinity of lovers, too, that's important.  The Wolverine was there from the beginning, when Phoenixes rose and fell too often, the sacrifices made too soon.  He was the scorned lover, the disciple who walked away, back to Westchester.  They do not ask him what he has lost, because that is all already written.  
  
Westchester, the cradle and the holy land on fire.  The Phoenix in flames, begging for love and death and forgiveness.  It never changes.  It never will.  
  
There will always be another Phoenix, another love to burn them out.  
  
Here, now, Magdalene remains, and her eyes are full of Death.  She will die before the end comes, and that she is grateful for.  When the end comes, when flames take Apocalyse again, they will, the three of them, know peace at last.  
  
She is penitential for her sins, in green and gold and quiet zeal.  She prays to God, still, but she hopes, sometimes, that someone else can hear her.  
  
"What did the Phoenix die for?" asks a child, a child barely born when her world collapsed.  
  
She tousles the hair he inherited from one parent and kisses the hooked nose he got from the other, the parents a part of her hopes he will never have to know are his.  
  
"Love, Kubrick," she says, softly.  "Love." 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, Kubrick is Quentin and Evan's son in this, and I kind of want to write about his adventures and him learning about his parents, and also mom!Idie and the rest of the Phoenix Nuns.


End file.
